


I'm in love with a friend of mine

by letitmclennon



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: M/M, Paul's wedding night, a bit of angst, but he is actually with John, happy mclennon day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-06
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2020-06-23 06:15:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19693123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/letitmclennon/pseuds/letitmclennon
Summary: "Do you ever regret it?""What?""To have met me.""How do you come up with this bullshit?"





	I'm in love with a friend of mine

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Mclennon day!!!!!!!!

He could imagine anything, but not to find him there, that very night.

When John entered the Abbey Road studios, he saw Paul's all-too-familiar back bending over the piano.

It surprised him a lot. Endlessly. After all...

_John woke up at lunchtime as usual, and when he joined Yoko in the kitchen to eat something, she stared at him waiting for something._

_"What is it?"_

_"Did you know anything about it?"_

_"About what?"_

_Yoko didn’t answer_ , _she simply turned on the television._

_Right there on the screen_ , _the reporter was saying that... Paul McCartney had just got married?_

_It wasn't possible._

_And yet there he was, so happy, holding his newly wife, that American bird, not so pretty if he had to be honest. What did he see in her?_

_It wasn't possible, but it happened._

_And John couldn't even give himself time to think about it, because fuck!, Yoko was staring at him with her inquiring eyes. And John could never hide fucking anything to those eyes._

_He had to be careful._

_"No," he replied, shrugging, "I didn't know anything about it."_

_"That’s weird, don't you think?"_

_"Well, Paul's a grown up lad now. As far as I'm concerned, he can do whatever the fuck he wants."_

The answer must have convinced her, because she didn't ask for anything and they didn't talk about it anymore.

But that didn't stop John from thinking about it later. Actually, for the rest of the day. He wanted to scream his anger and frustration because they had reached that point, the point where his best friend, or presumed best friend, didn't even tell him such an important event.

A stupid little voice suggested to him that he himself was to blame for that atmosphere of tension between them.

However, he thought, _he hoped_ that at least for some issues they were still like in the early days. John and Paul, Lennon and McCartney, just them.

He decided to pour out all his frustration in the studios. Playing with anger flowing into his veins could have positive implications. For once, he managed to convince Yoko to stay at home. He necessarily needed not to have her around for a while.

So when he found Paul in their studio, all intent on playing absently a melody, a mix of emotions overwhelmed him. The joy of seeing him there, on his very wedding night, the anger of having been excluded once again from his life, the nostalgia of what they were and which unconsciously he still wanted, and then that crazy feeling that had always been in him, since the first time he heard Paul play for him.

"I suppose I have to say congratulations."

John decided to act and Paul jumped on his seat, frightened, too much caught into his music.

"Or should I say _mazal tov_? I mean, isn’t she Jewish?"

“John.”

“Paul.”

"You know, then?" Paul’s gaze wandered in a sort of halo around John, but he never could really look him in the eyes.

"Not thanks to you. Obviously."

"I..."

"What happened, Paul?" John snapped, annoyed by his cowardly, "You woke up this morning and said, 'fuck, it's such a good day to get married, isn't it, luv?'"

“John-”

"Or maybe the royal mail lost my invitation. It's very likely, you know. I wonder if I should file an appeal directly to Her Majesty."

"John, listen to me."

"Oh should I, right? I should listen to your stupid excuses, as always, shouldn’t I? You had never taken the responsibility for your actions. Always there, finding fucking excuses. You're so childish, Paul."

John had seen it, the way Paul's expression had changed, while John was speaking. It went from being evidently sorry to being angry. Too many times John had seen it and he knew how to recognize it with his eyes closed, by the way Paul's breathing changed, as if it stopped.

He had spent so much time with that man that he knew every single detail of his face in every single situation, he had seen it with his own eyes. He knew how his character could change, he had felt it on his own skin. He knew every feeling his heart felt, they were the same that flowed in him.

And at that moment he knew, like Paul, that the anger was just a mask, to cover up and hide something that could no longer show itself.

"Fuck you, John, you're a shitty asshole." Paul blurted, before turning to take his stuff, "I came to explain, but I see you're not in the mood."

That said, Paul was about to leave and John would let him go, if it wasn't for that crazy feeling that stirred up inside him.

His arm snapped forward and it blocked Paul, who stopped with a puff.

"What?"

"I went too far." John muttered with a little voice, almost ashamed to show himself like that.

"So?"

"So..." John repeated, lowering his head and fixing his glasses on his nose, "I'm sorry."

Paul sighed, "Yes, you always say that."

"It's true."

"I know, that's why I hate you."

"You don't hate me."

"I wish."

"Try."

"I can't."

"Why?"

"You know."

"Tell me."

John hadn't noticed, perhaps because it had always been normal, having Paul's eyes so close, and his breath touching his nose.

But Paul was so close now and John had just become aware of it. He was dangerously close. John was like paralyzed, because Paul was just asking him to stay like that, standing still for a second, otherwise he wouldn't have the courage to do it.

But he did.

Careless of anyone who could enter at any moment, Paul kissed him and John thought this was the bravest thing he could expect from him. Especially that day. And he decided to enjoy it as much as he could.

So unexpected and perfect, despite everything. Just like Paul had always been for him.

Unexpected and perfect.

"It wasn't exactly the answer I was expecting." he murmured afterwards.

Paul smiled mischievously, "I don't think you're sorry about it."

"No, but what does that mean, Paul? Why are you here?"

"I wanted to see you."

"It's your wedding day." John repeated, as if Paul had already forgotten.

He nodded, the smile took on a slight tint of bitterness, "I know. That's why I wanted to."

"Then why did you marry her?"

"It seemed the right thing to do."

"It's not an answer."

"What do you want me to tell you?" Paul asked then, barely puffing and spreading his arms.

"I don't know, that you love her. Or maybe... you married her because she's pregnant."

"That’s not true."

"Why then?"

"Because I need her now."

Paul's response slammed against the walls of the soundproofed studio and was absorbed, leaving no trace of itself, except in John's gaze. He just squeezed his lips, staring at him, without any emotion. 

"And you don't need me anymore."

"I didn't say that." Paul hurried to add.

"But you thought it."

"No, fuck, John. Don't put words in my mouth that I never said or thought. I damn need you, John."

"Then why?"

"Because I can be with her without answering to anyone about what I do. It's easier to be with her in the spotlight. Do you understand that?"

John knew Paul was right. Hadn't it happened to him too? It was easier to be with Yoko, she was strong, she would think of everything and John bloody needed someone to take care of him now that Paul could no longer do it.

He knew Paul's words were true, but he didn't answer. And Paul went on.

"We are doomed to be forever in the spotlight. There's no fucking place in this fucking world where it could only be the two of us, in peace."

"It would exist, if we really wanted to." John pointed out, but Paul shook his head immediately.

"No, John."

"It's just that it's a too hard life for you."

"No. That's not it. I'm just afraid I'd hate you sooner or later. And I can't hate you. That's not why I was born. I couldn't stand it. I prefer to keep on loving you, even if apart, secretly, rather than hate you. Don't ask me that, John."

"I won't."

"Thank you."

The silence that followed seemed so deafening that even the soundproof walls of the studio couldn’t muffle it. And John hated it. It wasn't with that silence that he wanted to end that day.

"Why don't you play for me what you were playing before?" John asked, pointing to the piano with a nod.

"It's just stupid stuff, John."

"Let me hear it."

Paul looked at him hesitantly, before sighing and returning to sit at the piano.

"Do you really care?"

John chuckled and sat by his side, enjoying his closeness.

"You know I do. It's always me, even though I'm sometimes an asshole." John exclaimed, fixing his glasses on his nose.

"Fuck yes."

Paul cracked his fingers, leaning them on the ivory keys, but immediately John covered the man's hand with his own, taking him by surprise.

"Do you ever regret it?"

"What?"

"To have met me."

"How do you come up with this bullshit?"

"If it wasn't for me, you wouldn't be in this mess."

Paul sighed, "John, I'd rather have you in my life and be in this mess than have never known you at all."

"Liar."

"It's the truth. You're the best thing that ever happened to me."

And as if to reiterate the sincerity of his words, Paul turned his hand, intertwining his fingers with John's. He smiled, his gaze enraptured by how perfect were his fingers intertwined once again with Paul's.

"If you went back in time and could talk to Paul in 1957, would you tell him to go to that stupid fete anyway?"

"Fuck yes. And I'd also tell him to run."

"Always so exaggerated."

Paul laughed and John couldn't help but smile happily now.

That's how that day was supposed to end.

*****

_Paul arrived. He put his bicycle in a corner and walked toward the entrance. Ivan told him he was going to wait for him inside._

_There was music coming from the courtyard of St. Peter's Church. Paul twisted his lips: it was a decidedly very clumsy arrangement, but there was also something that was attracting him as if they were two magnets._

_A voice, scratched and velvety._

_He wondered who it belonged_ _to_. _It seemed to want to speak directly to something deep within him. Something Paul didn't think he had, actually._

_At that moment a small group of girls with long skirts and well-combed hair passed by him. One of them smiled at him and Paul recognized that smile. A couple of cheeky flatteries and sweet talks and the girl would fall at his feet. After all, didn't he go there to pick up?_

_But that voice drew him and teased his curiosity in a way Paul couldn't resist. He was so weak with certain temptations._

_So he let the girl walk away and_ _entered into the church yard._

_After all, he would have plenty of time to pick up._

_But that voice, that, Paul was sure, would change his life._

**Author's Note:**

> Heyyy, so, as I promised at the end of I'll get you, I wanted to try and write something new, and this is the result. Sigh, I don't think it's very good, but anyway, I really wanted to post something on this day. It always makes me happy. <3  
> I think I've read somewhere that Paul went to work the night of his wedding day. So my mind started to imagine stuff. XD  
> Of course, thanks to any of you that read the story and thanks to Vale that read the story even in his lunch break. :D  
> I'll start the translation of I'll get you's sequel these days. So, see you soon!! :D  
> Chiara


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